


Finite Time and Infinite Cake

by roxyryoko



Series: Drabbles in the Dark [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cake, Drabble, F/M, Garreg Mach Monastery (Fire Emblem), Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), The Ball, blunt children, dance, prompt, stop treating me like a child, wanna be grown up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22213651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyryoko/pseuds/roxyryoko
Summary: Lysithea knew she shouldn't have bothered trying so hard to fit in at the Garreg Mach ball. Everyone still treated her like a child. Even someone her own age saw her as one.
Relationships: Cyril & Lysithea von Ordelia, Cyril/Lysithea von Ordelia
Series: Drabbles in the Dark [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590193
Comments: 17
Kudos: 59
Collections: Those Who Drabble in the Dark





	Finite Time and Infinite Cake

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Felannie Fever Discord Drabble group with prompt: “It’s time to dance”: write 200-500 words about dancing, going to a dance, asking someone to dance, learning/teaching dance, balls, festivals, dance competitions etc (as long as the etc is reasonably within the bounds of dance/dance related activities)

Lysithea crammed the next bite of cake in her mouth and savored the heavenly flavors melting on her tongue. She held back the urges to squeal and stomp her foot, however, because that would be horrendously immature and she definitely was not a child. 

After all, she was attending Garreg Mach’s ball, spritzed with Hilda’s perfume, hair tied up with ornate pins, eyes and lips painted in subtle but graceful tints—like an adult.

“You sure do like sweets, don’t ya?” a familiar, slightly gruff voice commented. 

Surprised, Lysithea swallowed the remainder of the spongy morsel and glanced up to find Cyril, brows slightly furrowed as he assessed the voluminous stack of empty plates beside her. Despite matching the other serving staff, his dark fitted suit and combed back hair seemed strikingly unusual; almost outlandish. 

His eyes darted to her, and for some ridiculous reason she felt her cheeks flush. “What an absurd question,” she replied curtly. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Nope. Don’t think so.” He leaned across the table and started picking up the dishes. “You sure are making a lot of work for everyone. Why do you nobles gotta use so many plates?”

His words stung more than they should, shattering so easily her guise of maturity. Even someone her own age found her irresponsible and bothersome. 

She scooted her plate closer and sunk her fork into the moist cake, avoiding his gaze.

“How come you aren’t dancing like everyone else?”

Lysithea stifled a winch, remembering the humiliating, _childish_ way Claude had urged her to stand on his feet after she accepted his invitation to dance. 

She shoved a bite of cake into her mouth and humored his curiosity. “Because everyone insists on treating me like a child!” She shoveled another forkful in, but chewed slower, and ran her fingers through her hair. “It’s ridiculous. I don’t know why I bothered trying so hard to fit in tonight. They still treat me the same.” 

Why did she let Hilda convince her that all this nonsense would make her feel more grown up? Whatever. She didn’t have time for frivolous things like make-up and romance anyway.

“Sulking and eating cakes aren’t gonna make anything change, ya know.” Cyril picked up the last dish and shrugged. “Probably not worth much to ya, but I think you look real nice. If I knew how ta and wasn’t working, I’d ask ya ta dance.”

“Y-you would?” She stammered meekly. Heat rose on her cheeks and she stared intently at the frosting on her fork’s tips. 

“Yup.” He turned around to leave, hands full, but quickly glanced back at her. “Oh yeah. You got something on your face. Figured I’d oughta let ya know.” 

Her hand slapped her face as he departed, and a finger touched soft cream. Mortified, Lysithea wiped it off in quick haste and gaped at the evidence.

All this time she had food smudged on her cheek. Not just like a child. Worst. Like a _baby._


End file.
